


well, here comes your social life

by katebishoop



Series: tumblr prompts [20]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babysitting, F/M, First Dates, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katebishoop/pseuds/katebishoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He blurts out, and Clarke actually freezes at the question.</p><p>She blinks at him, and then slowly eases down into her seat. “Uh, nothing?”</p><p>Bellamy bites his lip, his pencil still flicking so rapidly against the table that Clarke thinks it may snap in two.</p><p>“Do you think you could help me babysit?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	well, here comes your social life

**Author's Note:**

> **anonymous asked:** "You think because I'm a girl I'll know how to help you babysit?" Bellarke. Modern au

There are a few things Clarke knows about her lab partner, Bellamy Blake.

He started late, so he’s oldest in their grade by a year at nineteen. He’s smart, but he only ever does what is required in the assignment - never raises his hand, never volunteers to go up to the board. He doesn’t have a lot of friends.

He’s got a heart of gold underneath all those sharp edges.

They’d hated each other at first – two headstrong individuals paired up in a subject they were both only decent at. But they eased into it, able to have conversation, not rip each other’s throats out, and get good grades on their assignments. Clarke would like to consider them friends, even if he always rejects her offers to hang out outside of class – he does acknowledge her in the halls though, that’s something.

She’d also like to make out with his stupidly pretty face, but – friendship first.

They’ve got lab first period, and he’s already there was Clarke walks in. His leg is bouncing, his pencil tapping rapidly against the table. He’s completely on edge antsy – did they have a quiz today? Oh god, they better not have a quiz today.

She’s barely slid into the stool next to him when his head snaps up in her direction.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He blurts out, and Clarke actually freezes at the question.

She blinks at him, and then slowly eases down into her seat. “Uh, nothing?”

Bellamy bites his lip, his pencil still flicking so rapidly against the table that Clarke thinks it may snap in two.

“Do you think you could help me babysit?”

Clarke had thought for a moment he was asking her out but – nope.

“Babysit?” Clarke asks as she unloads her backpack. “I’m the actual worst when it comes to children.”

Which is a true statement – Clarke and kids, they do not mix. She learned that the hard way as a day camp counselor. It was still painful to think about, all the gum they put in her hair.

Bellamy let out a little huff, he was thinking hard, trying to put words together, “But you’re a girl, so I thought-”

"Wait,” Clarke shakes her head “you think because I'm a girl I'll know how to help you babysit?"

“No no no-” Bellamy holds up his hands in surrender. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He drops his pencil and holds his head in his hands, rubbing his face. “I know how to babysit – I’ve been raising my sister since I was, six, okay?” Clarke’s eyes widen a bit at that – because she didn’t even know he had a sister – raising her since he was _six_  years old? “But she just turned thirteen and – I don’t know, she’s going through a phase or something? She’s a teenage girl, you’re a teenage girl, I figured you’d have a better shot than I have. I’m sorry if I-”

“Bellamy,” She cuts him off, and places her hand on his bouncing knee to calm it. He looks up at her through his fingers, and it makes her heart melt a little. He’s – God, he’s an awkward dork. That’s her kryptonite. “What time should I come over?”

* * *

When Clarke knocks on apartment seventeen, she’s expecting Bellamy, but instead she’s greeted by a girl with long dark hair.

The girl looks her up and down, critically, and it makes Clarke squirm a bit. “I didn’t think you’d be blonde.”

Clarke doesn’t really know how to respond to that. “Octavia?”

“Octavia?” Someone calls from deeper in the apartment, and the Bellamy’s there behind her, looking like a mess, wearing oven mitts and an apron tied around his waist. And most strikingly – _glasses_. “Clarke - you're early."

Clarke gives him a sheepish grin, "I'm actually late."

She maybe had changed a bunch of times. It wasn't a date but she still wanted to look nice, but not trying to hard and- basically stressing out needlessly before finally calming herself down.

Bellamy gets a cranes his head back to look at what she assumes is a clock. "Oh - well, uh- come in."

The apartment is small, and cramped, but to Clarke it feels more like a home than hers. It feels  _lived in_. They don't have a television, but they've got a couch. The kitchen's nothing more than a fridge, oven, microwave, and sink connected to the main room on cracked tile floor. There's a small hallway that she assumes leads down to the bathroom and bedroom.

"You can- uh, have a seat on the couch?" Bellamy says, and Clarke wants to hug him. He's so nervous and flustered about this.

She goes and sits on one end of the couch, and Octavia flops down on the other end, her legs sticking out, feet nearly touching Clarke. Bellamy shoots Octavia a look but doesn't say anything to her, just looks at Clarke pleadingly like:  _see what I'm talking about_.

"I'm making pasta," Bellamy says, rubbing at the back of his neck, and then his eyes go wide, and Clarke thinks she can hear his heart rate pick up, "Wait, are you allergic to-"

"No, I love pasta," Clarke can't help the smile on her face, and maybe that eases him a little, "Thank you, Bellamy."

Bellamy opens his mouth to say something else, but just closes it, giving her a sheepish smile and heading off into the kitchen.

Clarke turns to face Octavia, who's examining her closely. It's a little unsettling - having a thirteen year old stare her down like this. "So, Octavia-"

"Octavia - you didn't get the pasta sauce on your way home?" Bellamy calls with his head in the fridge.

Octavia shrugs. "Forgot, I guess."

Bellamy thunks his head against the fridge, and the tears his apron off. “I’m sorry about this-” He tells them as she scrambles for the door, “I’ll be right back-“

And he’s gone before she can even tell him _it’s alright_.

Octavia sits up then, so quickly it actually startles her. “Do you like my brother?”

Clarke blinks at her. “Yeah.”

Octavia rolls her eyes, “Do you _like_ my brother?”

 _Oh_.

She’s known Octavia less than ten minutes, but she can tell that her edges are sharper than her brother’s. She doesn’t seem like a person that Clarke should lie too. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Octavia says, and she relaxes a little, that angsty teen persona fading away, “Bellamy works really hard okay? Mom’s never around, he never gets a break.”

Octavia stands up then. “He talks about you a lot. He really likes you – but he’s dumb. I started acting out so he’d have a reason to bring you here.”

“That seems…” The Blake’s are strange, but she likes them. Clarke can’t help but grin up at the girl. “A little extreme.”

 Octavia just shrugs. “Well it worked. I’m going to Raven’s,” Octavia heads over to the door, enjoy your romantic dinner. Candle’s are under the sink.”

“Um-” Clarke shakes her head, trying to wrap her head around all around this. “I feel like I shouldn’t let you leave?”

Octavia rolls her eyes again – so that’s a thing she always does then, even when not playing a role. “Raven lives on the other side of the building. Bell knows her. It’s fine.”

Octavia leaves and Clarke’s stunned. Did she just get _parent trapped_?

She gets up and peaks out the window – and there Octavia goes, into apartment eleven down the hall. Okay, so that’s good, at least.

Clarke sighs, and turns back to the small apartment. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade or someshit.

Bellamy comes back a few minutes later, in a complete rush. He doesn’t even notice what’s changed. She’s set up dishes on the coffee table, decorated with some stumpy mismatched candles. She’s even washed the other dishes, letting them dry on the rack.

He finally notices though, when he turns around and she’s standing right there – and he jumps.

“Clarke-” He then takes her, and the living room, and the absence of Octavia in all at once. “Where’s my sister?”

Clarke steps back and leans against the counter. “She went over to Raven’s.” Bellamy’s eyes go wide, but she continues on before he can say anything. “Apparently acting out was just an act because she was trying to get you to ask me on a date.”

Bellamy’s eyes – if possible – go even wider then she says this. “Um.”

A smirk spreads across her face, and she takes a step towards him. “Apparently, you talk about me a lot.”

A flush spreads across his face and – yeah, she didn’t lie to Octavia.

* * *

Clarke laughs so hard that she actually snorts – chocolate milk coming out of her nose.

“Oh my god-” Bellamy says, worriedly, but he’s laughing too, “are you alright?”

They’re sitting on the floor in the living room, sitting close together, knees bumping, backs against the sofa. They’ve finished their dinner – and damn, Bellamy’s a great cook. And he’s an even better blusher when she tells him that.

He’s so unexpected yet makes perfect sense at the same time. Of course he’s a huge nerd, but not with math or science – ancient history, mythology, _Latin_. He’s basically a workaholic - their mom shows up a few times a week, and then disappears again, so he’s basically the adult of the house. Raising Octavia was part of the reason he started school late, but he doesn’t mind at all. He lights up when he talks about Octavia, like she’s his whole world.

And maybe that’s why Octavia did all this, because for both their sakes, he needs a life of his own.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Clarke wheezes out, holding her chest. She hasn’t laughed that hard in long time – and it was some ancient Greek dick joke _oh my god_.

His glasses keep getting skewed on his face, and over the course of the meal her self-restraint has weakened so much she’s fixing them, touching them, any chance she gets.

But this time she doesn’t pull her hand back after fixing them. Instead, she brushes them through his messy, soft circles, coming down the side of his face to cup his cheek. His skin is like the sun under her touch.

“I’m having a really good time tonight, Bellamy,” Clarke says, her heart pounding.

Bellamy swallows. “Yeah?”

“Do you know what would make it a really great time?”

Bellamy’s eyes dart down to her lips, and he licks his own. “Yeah, I think I do.”

One of his arms circles around her waist, the other weaving itself into her hair as he leans down and presses his lips to hers.

If he’s out of practice, it doesn’t show. He kisses like he lives – giving it everything he’s got. She’s not holding back either. She pulls at his hair. She runs her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he opens then for her.

It’s a give and take. She deepens the kiss, he presses her back against the floor, hovering above her. She pulls him down so that their bodies are flushed.

Bellamy groans, and his lips move down to her neck. “I think this would be more comfortable on the couch.”

Bellamy latches onto that spot behind her ear that never fails to illicit a breathy gasp from her. “Or your bed.”

She bucks her hips up against his, and Bellamy sucks in a sharp breath. He pulls back enough to look at her, his pupils blown wide behind the glasses that are slipping down his nose. Goddamn, he’s stupidly pretty.

“Are- are you sure?”

Clarke tilts her head to the side, to nudge her face into his palm. “Bellamy, do you want to go out with me?”

Bellamy blinks at her, and Clarke reaches up to push his glasses back up again before they fall on her face. She sees the gears turning in his head, and she sees the moment when he finally allows himself something, the grin spreading across his face. “Yeah.”

Clarke’s hand trails up his chest, and then into his hair, her fingers twisting into the ones at the back of his neck. “Bellamy, do you want to have sex with me?”

Maybe she’s been too forward, but. Clarke doesn’t do anything halfway, and she suspects he doesn’t either.

Bellamy surges down to kiss her – wet and deep. His arms come down – one hooks behind her thigh, the other around her back. He leans back on his knees, the pushes himself up to his feet, hoisting her up along with him.

Clarke laughs as she hooks her legs around his back. Bellamy kisses down her neck, down her cleavage, to the top of her breasts.

“Tell me if I’m going to hit a wall.” He says into her chest, as he carries her to his bedroom.

* * *

At school on Monday, they’re both late to their first period lab because they were making out in her car.

“Octavia probably just wanted me to get in trouble so I can’t be mad at her,” Bellamy says as they head down the hall.

They’re holding hands – it’s turning quite a few heads, including Wells because she hasn’t got a chance to tell him yet. But Clarke doesn’t care about them; she just cares about how perfectly their fingers intertwine.

Clarke cocks an eyebrow at him. “Do you wish she hadn’t?”

Bellamy snorts. “I wish she’d done it sooner.”

They get in trouble again – because he kisses her then, pushing her back against her locker, and they both let it get way too PG-13 for a public high school hallway.

But she doesn’t care.

And if there’s one thing that she knows about Bellamy Blake, it’s that he doesn’t either.

(And that he's good with his hands).

**Author's Note:**

> prompts are open over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


End file.
